


Despacito

by Vixx2pointOh



Series: The Unwritten [11]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post Season 5, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 11:27:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11356551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vixx2pointOh/pseuds/Vixx2pointOh
Summary: It had been Felicity's idea.After everything....everything, she convinced him to get out of Star City for four days of something that wasn’t what they had left behind.Four days in San Juan, Puerto Rico.





	Despacito

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to the many people who love this song, Bish I'm looking at you ;)
> 
> Special thanks to Alejandra who gave me an excellent overall translation of the 'feeling' in the song, it was invaluable and I hope I do it justice.
> 
> Xox

**San Juan, Puerto Rico**   
**January, San Sebastián Street Festival**

It had been Felicity's idea.  
After everything.... _everything_ , she convinced him (without much effort required) to get out of Star City for four days of something that wasn’t what they had left behind.

It had been her idea, and, as he watched her eyes light up at the street parade of colourful puppets from the patio of their second storey villa apartment, he couldn’t be more happier that she had thought of it.

It was nearing the end of January and the San Sebastián Street Festival was into its third day. As the day stretched into early evening the smells of traditional street food wafted through the colonial villa in Old San Juan.

“Isn’t this beautiful?” Felicity smiled as her purple-tipped fingers wrapped around her spiced coquito before taking a sip of the sweetened coconut rum concoction   
“Breath-taking,” Oliver spoke as his arms enveloped her waist and his lips hugged the silken-soft skin under her jaw  
“You’re not even watching,” she jested, melting into the hot mist of breath that fanned out across her neck.

This had been her idea.  
A moment where they forgot the world, lie in each other's arms and remember just how perfectly they once fitted together.

“My view is perfect,” Oliver hummed the words against the crook of her neck with his nose skimming against her earlobe as his hands clasped her waist, afraid to let her go...to lose her.   
_Not again, never again._

They had spent the Thursday and Friday rediscovering each other in every way they could. The first time they made love on that tiny double poster bed, carved with prayers of love – or so the land lady had advised in charming broken English – had been slow, torturously slow, but Oliver needed to follow every line of her body, mapping out familiar marks with new ones that had become part of her.

The second time had seen them nearly not make it back to their room after dinner. It was hard, fast and passionate. Her nails had gouged his shoulders desperately as they sat perched on the edge of the bed, her legs clinched around his waist. Her orgasm was intense, his equally so. The street festivities, thankfully, drowning out the cries of pleasure.

The third and forth times had happened an hour later. Her lips around his cock and his fingers buried themselves in her hair. He returned the gesture, greedily making her cum twice in rolling sweetness to drink up everything she gave him.

This morning had been gentle, his back pressed into the headboard with her perched on his lap. His hands explored her body, his lips following the same path.

_Shoulders_ , she shuddered in his arms.   
_Neck_ , she hummed into his ear.   
_Her breasts,_ her teeth sunk into her lower lip and her eyes lulled.   
He remembered it all.   
Every tell, every response, there to welcome him home.

_God, he had missed it._

Tonight he would follow her lead, if she demanded he bury his tongue inside her for hours he would do it; if she asked for it prolonged, teetering on the brink until it became impossible he would do it; _hell_ if she wanted put a dog collar on him and walk him around the room on all fours – he would.

Felicity had eagerly accepted the power as they lay coiled in each other this morning but so far her wishes had consisted of a particularly long bath together where the only part of her his fingers were allowed touch were her feet, in a slow erotic foot massage. He hadn’t minded, touching any part of her was a gift and gratefully Felicity had run her smooth hands up and down his rock hard shaft easing his erection just enough to not make him lose his mind.

For the first time tonight they would venture out into the thick of the festivities at Felicity's request.

“There will be time for that after,” Felicity purred as she took his hands in hers and spun in his arms, now chest to chest, eyes locked, lips a hair’s breadth apart  
“Do you promise?” Oliver asked, the tips of his lips curled into a smile  
Felicity answered with a smile before wordlessly she wrapped her lips around his lower lip devouring it with tiny nips of her teeth and lingered strokes of her tongue.  
“You'll scream my name when we're done,” she whispered, her tone rasped and threaded with promise  
“Yes Ma’am.”

Felicity pulled free from his embrace, swirling her hips to flare the crimson tiers of the mermaid cut flamenco skirt she had bought from a little shop, hidden amongst the brightly painted cafes.

Oliver couldn’t tear his eyes away from it even if he wanted to. The setting sun in the distance was a brilliant flare of pink and burnt orange, but all he saw was Felicity, the satin fabric rolling over her ass like it was painted on with slow, sweeping strokes, before it flared into tiers of ruffled fabric that danced when she walked, the last tier floating around her ankles.

The moment she had put it on and spun on the brushed terracotta tiles, Oliver had wanted to tear it off with his teeth. Claim it like he had once, so long ago now, to that little black dress....

“Let's go,” Felicity interrupted his hedonistic thoughts as she tugged him through the room

The street was a chorus of bright colours and loud music. Sights and sounds teased the senses and you couldn’t help but sink into it. The smells that drifted past your nose made your mouth water, the colours that danced in rainbow seas made you ever thankful for the gift of sight. The music that threaded and weaved through your body swayed your hips and made each step you took somewhat magical.

And both Felicity and Oliver, palms pressed together and fingers linked, felt Every. Single. One.

They floated through the crowd on a journey that was of Felicity's own design. The first stop was a tiny bar with a rusted sign hung above the doorway for nostalgia reasons.

They clinked shot glasses of Chichaito, linking at the elbows to drink the liquorice tasting speciality. Another followed before they paid and disappeared back into the crowd.

It had been like a lifetime since Oliver had felt the weightlessness he felt right now. The return home would see its own set of trials, but for now Oliver wanted nothing but to soak up these stolen moments with the love of his life leading the way.

The sun fell below the horizon as an hour flew by, another hot on its heels. They sampled traditional food and took a shot of the sweetened rum, Bili.

Felicity's cheeks were flushed and her lips appeared like the most delicious red apple that Oliver would give anything to sink his teeth into....and he did, his body pressing her against the wall of an alleyway as crowds swelled through the street nearby. He feasted on her lips, swallowed her hot breaths and relished the moans he pulled from the very pit of her stomach.

Desperate, but measured.  
Hungered, but savouring.

“Des-pa-cito,” Felicity whispered against his cheek  
 _Slow down._  
Her voice reverberated down his spine sending blood pooling between his legs.

Back into the crowd they ran, like young lovers running from life that would soon catch up with them. He wasn’t mayor, she wasn’t CEO, he wasn’t the Green Arrow and she wasn’t Overwatch...they were just lovers chasing the sunrise.  
The night sunk darker as the lights and lanterns strung grew brighter. Colours mixed with each other and glows and hues wove together like magic.

_Magic_.

Felicity’s eyes fell on a mesmerising dance on a small stage just through a small gathered crowd. Fairy lights strung around the makeshift stage, a live band of four played traditional music threaded with a modern twist that worked like a pied piper drawing in the crowds.

In awe of the dance, Felicity waded through the small crowd as Oliver followed a few steps behind. Traditionally it was a Merengue in its form, but the couple dancing it danced as though they were seducing each other on stage.

Their bodies never parted and their eyes were locked with unspoken words. It was fluid with feet intertwining but never stumbling. Felicity couldn’t look away and nor did she wish to.

They had steps of their own, his hands sunk into her voluptuous waist as the woman thrust herself against his leg. Felicity wanted to know their story within the dance, _were they lovers; separated by aspects out of their control? Were they strangers; discovering each other in unbridled passion?_

She felt Oliver’s hands smooth around her waist and smelled that familiar scent that she had spent far too long missing. Her eyes lulled contentedly for just a moment before she felt a hand take hers and move her forward.

Her eyes shot open to see the woman smiling with crimson lips and stunning brown eyes.  
“We’ll show you,” she spoke, her accent like a softly winding chant that was immeasurably sexy  
Ordinarily Felicity would have kindly declined the offer, and maybe it was the drinks or maybe it was the way Oliver was looking at her (like he wanted to have her right there and then), but tonight wasn’t about what Felicity would ordinarily do.

Tonight was about the _journey_.

“Your hips, feel them,” the woman instructed, lacing long delicate fingers around the curve of Felicity’s waist and using them to sway her hips, “let the bass move you, like sex would.”  
Felicity blushed at the reference, her eyes tipping back over her shoulder to Oliver who was utterly transfixed.

So engrossed he was that he – the man who always knew his surroundings and could never be snuck up on – was surprised when the man pushed him forward and the woman grabbed his hands and placed them where hers had been seconds before.

“Like sex,” she whispered in Felicity’s ear as she stepped away with a wink  
Oliver’s hands melted around Felicity’s waist and his cock felt hard against the inside of her leg.  
“Move with her,” the woman coached, pressing Oliver’s hands into Felicity, gripping his fingers to the point where they might leave marks against her creamy skin at the small of her back.  
“Take her where you want her to go, she will move with you.”

The crowds disappeared from their view, it was just them and a soft, tantalising voice encouraging them. Oliver didn’t know if his feet were moving and frankly he didn’t care, his every sense was focused on her, watching the tiny mist of sweat bead into her clavicle made him thirsty.

Her hungry eyes, watching him with an engaging depth, made him want to fall into them, lost but fulfilled.

Her neck, naked and arched, made him want to press his nose into it and breathe in from the base to the tip of her ear as slowly as he could, relishing each delicious scent he found there.

He wanted her naked.   
Her clothes slowly peeled from her body.  
His cock thickened and twitched at the thought of it – how slowly he could take it off, how slowly she would let him enjoy her with his lips.

Everything was her.

His hands slid her body upward and her hips thrust her body against his leg, skating her sex against the thickness of his thigh. He groaned, though the music drowned it out.

Again.  
Again.  
Again.

Felicity mewled at the sensation, if Oliver had only known she had gone without underwear underneath her crimson skirt. The silk fabric brushed against her folds each time she thrust herself against his leg. She was dripping and sensitive when he pushed her a little harder and she felt the roughness of his denim press through the delicacies of her skirt.

She snapped her bottom lip between her teeth, afraid that she might cry his name much louder than the music could disguise.

She needed him inside her. Now.

The music stopped and she was left breathless. His pupils had blown wide with carnal thoughts.

They both knew what they needed.

Felicity offered the two dancers a thankful smile before she pulled Oliver, weightlessly, back into the crowd.

The fire between her legs grew with each step she took, her body craving the fullness of his cock buried deep – _so deep_ – inside her. She had said he would scream her name by the time this night was over, but she knew she would be screaming his just as loudly.

She was lost in a sea of people, unsure which way would lead them back to their villa, but it didn’t matter – she had other plans.

They moved to the edge of the crowd and it was her this time that pushed Oliver against a wall and planted a desperate kiss against his lips. When she pulled back his lips stayed parted and she swept a finger over them coyly brushing them closed.

She led him down the small cobblestone steps, taking them easily two steps at a time as if the sun would soon wake and everything around them would cease to exist.

The beach was almost buried by the ocean, the tide high up its shore. Without a care Felicity ran through the shallow waters with Oliver following barely a step behind, their fingers still woven together.

He didn’t ask where they were going when they disappeared around a bend and sunk into the darkness of a rock formation. The noise from the street above them blended into a hum of background sounds.

Felicity had told Oliver once, back when they spent lazy days tangled in bed together, that she had a fantasy of having sex just far enough away from a crowd so as not to be seen but close enough so that you could hear them and the threat of being caught made you need it fast and hard, so when she fell against the rock wall and pulled him by the shirt close against her, he knew that’s what she wanted now.

_Slow_ had evolved.  
Logistics and angles coursed through his brain and as if reading them Felicity leaned close to his ear and whispered something that sent a shockwave right down to his already painfully-hard erection, “I’m not wearing anything under this skirt.”

_Problem one, solved._  
“Here?” he rasped, desperate for her approval before he let himself dive into the fantasy along with her  
“Right here Oliver, right now,” she was grinning in the whips of the moon’s light and fuck it was about the sexiest thing he had ever seen, “Now.”  
Her hand gripped his cock and squeezed.  
 _Fuck_.  
If she had held on a moment longer he might have come in his pants right there and then.  
He ripped off his shirt which elicited a soft teasing chuckle from her.  
“The shirt could have stayed on,” she whispered and her fingernails stroked the lines of his chest  
“It’s not for me, it’s for you,” he growled playfully as he threaded his shirt over her body, “this might get a little rough.”  
Her eyes widened as he pressed her against the wall, loosed his belt and tore open the fly of his jeans.

His palm skimmed the inside of her thigh as he lifted her skirt and folded it back. She gasped when he lifted her up against the wall, the shirt now becoming a shield for her back and shoulders against the jagged edges of the wall, although the roughness and discomfort of the same added something a little more exciting than Felicity was expecting.

Felicity wrapped one leg around his waist, every thankful for her weekly yoga lessons, as her other foot did an en pointe into the sand. Her hands fingered through his hair, their eyes locked and their lips skimming over each other in hot, heavy breaths.

She felt the slap of his cock against her thigh as he released it from his pants that now hung loose around his waist. One of his arms stayed locked around the small of her back, the hand sunk into her hip as the other walked a slow path up her skirt.

His calloused and familiar fingers met her sweltering folds. There was little work needing to be done.  
“I know,” she whispered, recognising the expression of delight at her already been wet and waiting for him that danced across his face   
“Now,” she continued as she thrust her hips forward, pushing his fingers between her dripping sex

He needed no other invitation as his hand gripped his cock and placed it at her entrance. His lips stole hers, as he always relished the first gasp that she would made when he entered her.

Tonight was no exception, their lips pressed together, the crowd above them like a chant and the deep thrum of the music like electricity, Oliver thrust himself deep inside her, pushing her body up the wall before his hand on her hip pulled her back down.

She gasped and he caught it.

Without pause he buried his deliciously thick cock inside her, coating the shaft in her slick wetness.

Her lips pulled away from his at the pleasurable intrusion before her forehead nestled into her neck.  
“Deeper,” she growled in his ear as she nipped at his earlobe   
He obliged, thrusting a little bit deeper to make a pleasured cry fall from her lips.  
He stayed there, buried to the hilt inside her, as she rocked her hips above him, pressing his head against her thin and soft walls. There was nothing in the world like it, nothing that compared to the way Felicity would move when she was on top.

The tiny little sounds she made as she took pleasure from him, enjoying herself without shyness or reserve, ultimately making him lose his fucking mind, because nothing, ever, compared to it.

She kissed his neck, wet and hot, and he _fucking_ loved it. She hummed against his shoulder as she adjusted the angle of her hips to take a little more of him; and when she was finally ready for what came next she let out a breathy “now.”

Oliver knew what that meant and he was like a racehorse out of the gate. He pulled back an inch or two before he thrust back in.

She keened at the sensation, her nails digging into his scalp.

Again.  
Again.  
Again.  
He pulled back, thrust forward.

Her back scraped against the rock, tearing through the cotton shirt and pricking into her skin as she sunk her teeth into the thin threads of his neck like she had once discovered he so enjoyed.

Thick, hot breaths passed between them, his fanning out across her chest as he buried his chin between her breasts and hers misting over her neck and jaw.

Her walls clenched around him, her arousal brimming at its peak as every sensation gripped her – from the way his cock stretched her entrance and the head hit smoothly against every spot it could reach inside her, to the way his pelvis brushed against her clit, the friction stimulating it with the brush from his thatch of hair.

The slight discomfort of the rocks behind her and the way his hand held her so damn tight that she was positive she would see bruises in the shape of his fingers come morning.

It was carnal and fierce but as her body rocked towards orgasm and she pulled his head upwards to lock eyes with him, she saw in the thick threads of blue that it was so much more than that.

“I love,” he panted, kissing her lips breathlessly, “you.”  
She smiled as the pleasure cascaded down her body. Every nerve felt the rush, from the blush set across the apples of her cheeks to the tingling at the tips of her toes – no part of her was left untouched by the type of orgasm only Oliver Queen gave her.

His name fell from her lips – not quite a scream but music to his ears none the less – as her warm silky release coated his throbbing cock still thrumming deep inside her, and seconds later he found his own release, threads of it shooting up inside her as his body shuddered through it.

He whispered her name against the sweat veiled over her neck, once, twice, three times.

_First_ for the love they had created all those years ago;  
 _Second_ for the moment they were living now, back in each other’s arms; and  
 _Third_ for the beauty of the future that awaited them, together.

The sounds and smells of the festivities above them slowly brought them back to reality as Oliver lowered Felicity to the flats of her feet.

He brushed back her hair and kissed her temple, remembering the whispered instructions she had given him hours before.

_Des-pa-cito_  
This had not been slow, or considered.  
But the night also wasn’t over yet.  
“Can we go back now?” he asked, letting the wind brush her hair against his face  
She lifted up against him and placed a feathered kiss at the very tip of his smile.  
“Do you have plans?” she returned his question with one of her own as her nimble fingers brushed against his softened member, rubbing her thumb over the damp head of it.

Oliver stilled her hand, trapping her wrist between his fingers.  
“Slow down,” he grinned

And they did, back at the Villa. All night until dawn touched the horizon and they finally fell asleep entwined, spent and deliriously happy.

 

***~*~*~***

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, comments and kudos welcomed (very much so)
> 
> Xox


End file.
